


Bullet for my Valentine

by LoathsomeSinner



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Gun Blowjob, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, M/M, Other, Safewords, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-06 23:44:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17354906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoathsomeSinner/pseuds/LoathsomeSinner
Summary: Maynard needs to blow off some steam.





	Bullet for my Valentine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EffingEden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffingEden/gifts).



> A fic about my favourite nerds Maynard (mine) and Hart (EffingEden's). This is in an AU where Maynard is a mob boss and Hart is working for him. Maynard is FtM.
> 
> This story was written on a prompt - “You know I love you right? I have every intention of fucking you like I don’t.”

Maynard’s anger was a fearsome, but at the same time beautiful thing to behold, and for once it wasn’t directed at him. No, the poor soul on the receiving end was currently tied to a chair, begging for his life. Hart supposed he should have felt some guilt for getting him there, but it wasn’t _his_ fault the man had tried to sell them out to a rival gang, and it _definitely_ wasn’t his fault that he’d done such a piss poor job of it.

He’d always had a talent for sniffing out the rats, the liars and the cheaters. It came as a natural result of being better at it than them. The only difference was that he now had someone he actually cared enough about to tell. The old boss… Well. Suffice to say he hadn’t felt bad when _he’d_ ended up with a gun against his head, either. The same gun that was aimed right between the terrified and bound man’s eyes right now. Maynard was small, but that seemed to do nothing to detract from the aura of violence that surrounded him. Everyone in the room knew he was going to shoot, the begging would do nothing to change it. 

The entire gang was in awe and more than a little fear of their newest boss. No one had questioned it when he took over, no one had the balls. Or maybe some of them were smart enough to realize that Maynard was just more competent. Everyone, including Hart, flinched when the gunshot rang out, cutting the latest batch of begging short. Without another word, Maynard tucked the gun back into it’s holster and turned to leave. Hart felt his heart race as the cold, angry eyes met his, and a simple jerk of his head told him he was expected to follow.

And he did, completely unable to resist the unspoken command even if - for some unthinkable reason - he had wanted to. He would have been feeling dread if it was their last ‘boss,’ but now it was a mixture of nerves and anticipation. He could only imagine what Maynard wanted him for, but he certainly had an active imagination when it came to that man. 

He didn’t have to wait long to find out. Once Maynard had led him to his ‘office,’ the shorter man locked the door with an almost foreboding click. A second later he was being shoved up against it in a movement that was almost too quick to process. He looked down into those hard eyes, and a shudder ran down his spine. There was still anger there, but something _else_ as well, something just as beautiful.

“What’s your safeword, Kai?” 

Hart’s breath hitched for a moment, caught in his throat. He knew what it meant when Maynard said that, and his body was already starting to react.

“Mercy,” he breathed, just barely avoiding stuttering out the word.

“You know I love you, right?” Hart nodded, not daring to speak lest he ruin what he’d already managed. “Because I have every intention of fucking you like I don’t.”

The next moment he was being thrown, not hard enough to send him flying (though he knew Maynard could do it), but enough to make him stumble into the table in the middle of the room. He heard the sound of the gun being drawn from it’s holster, and his skin crawled. The word that would stop him danced on the tip of his tongue as he turned to see it, but he couldn’t stop it _now_ , when it hadn’t even started. Besides, Maynard needed this.

He watched as the man withdrew the clip, but he knew enough about guns to know there was still one in the chamber. His eyes widened as he was pushed back, unrelentingly, until he was laying against the table he’d been thrown against. Maynard pressed between his legs, the heat and pressure of him making his body react warmly even if there was still a chill of fear in his chest. Were this anyone else, he would have been struggling, but he trusted Maynard, even with such a dangerous thing.

The gun was brought up to his face, and he flinched despite himself. The gun hesitated, reminding him of who was holding it, even if he couldn’t look away from the gaping hole at the end. It was impossible not to think about the fact that this gun had just been used to kill a man. But this was _Maynard_. The only person he truly thought he could trust (still a strange sensation indeed).

“Suck.”

Hart squirmed as the gun came closer to his mouth, but his lips parted without protest. The bitter tang of gunpowder met his tongue as the unyielding metal was pressed between his lips. His eyes finally managed to move back to Maynard’s face, watching that hard, impassive expression closely as he began to service the weapon the way he would if it were Maynard’s cock. 

He gave a soft, whimpered moan as the man began to grind their hips together, pressing almost too hard against his already straining cock. When he tried to move, the hand at his chest moved down to hold his hips still with a firm grip that would probably leave a bruise later. He whined petulantly, as well as he could around the invading piece of metal, but he knew his pleading (and his struggling, for that matter) would go ignored.

He felt a thrill of triumph as he noticed a slight change in Maynard’s expression, telling him he was doing well. He couldn’t resist making the show as lewd as he could, sometimes pulling back so that he could run his tongue along the side, other times sucking it as far into his mouth as he could allow, not willing to risk taking the unforgiving metal into his throat. 

His breath caught as Maynard moved, and he squirmed again as the man leaned over him, onto him, reaching for one of the drawers. He knew what the man was reaching for, and his eyes followed the movement in anticipation.

He let out another whine as, for some reason, Maynard stopped, sending a piercing look down at him.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Hart flushed, in his excitement he had forgotten the task put to him (or maybe he’d hoped that Maynard had). He began to suck and lick at the gun again, though his attention was still elsewhere as he watched Maynard - struggling a little due to his short stature - open the draw and pull it out. The strap-on was already in a harness, ready to go for whenever Maynard might need it. 

Hart squirmed again, not fully realizing that he was spreading his legs further open in the process. Somehow Maynard managed to keep the gun held steady even as he moved to pull the harness on, over his pants, refusing to relieve Hart of his current duty. He wondered briefly if he would have to keep doing it even as he was getting fucked.

He grunted in surprise when the gun was suddenly pulled free of his lips, tucked securely back into its holster. He had no time for words as he was lifted back off the table, flipped, then pushed roughly back onto it. His hands were grabbed and forced up onto his back, allowing Maynard the leverage to keep his arms out of the way and his chest pressed firmly against the desk with only one hand. If Hart had chosen to struggle, he _might_ have had a chance to escape, but he couldn’t think of anything he’d like to do less in this moment.

He held his breath as Maynard’s free hand yanked down his pants, squirming to look behind him when nothing else was forthcoming. The sight of Maynard pouring lube onto the strap-on made him give an appreciative sigh, but it was nothing compared to the predatory glint in Maynard’s gaze. Hart gave another soft whimper as he waited, the seconds seemed to drag out into hours, but he knew that if he let himself get too impatient that Maynard would make him wait even longer.

Suddenly Maynard’s hand was there, a slicked finger pressing for a moment before pushing in. He barely had time to adjust to the sensation before another pressed into him, stretching him out quicker than his body was ready for. But the impatience was building between himself and Maynard, and the slight hint of pain barely even registered over the sensation of having Maynard _in_ him.

Hart groaned happily as a third finger pushed in, stretching him almost to his limit with no reprieve. And he gasped as the fingers suddenly pulled away, leaving him feeling empty. Thankfully, it only lasted a moment before he felt something else pressing against him. He held his breath again as it pushed forward, then let it out in a low groan as the strap-on settled deep within him.

Then, true to Maynard’s earlier promise (or was it more of a threat?) it began to move. The hand that had been inside him gripped his hips, no doubt adding to the bruising that was already going to show up there. The pace was brutal from the beginning, giving Hart no rest, and he refused to ask for it. The only thing he wished was that his hands were free so that he could stroke himself. The intense stimulation in one place but not the other was almost enough to drive him mad. Exactly how Maynard liked to have him.

Hart could barely hear the sound of Maynard’s breathing, ragged and excited, over the noises he himself was making, but it was there. The sound was addictive, something he could never get enough of. He wished the man wouldn’t be so _quiet_ sometimes, but he knew Maynard didn’t like to lose control of himself. So he clung to what he could get, enjoying every harsh gasp and strangled groan that Maynard gave him.

With the pace Maynard was setting, it didn’t take long before he could feel the pleasure building up inside him. If he let it, it wouldn’t take much more of this before he came, but he wasn’t going to let it happen that easily. Maynard liked to be in control, and that extended to his orgasms as well. He’d learned how to hold it back for quite a while, though Maynard knew just how to push his buttons to make him blow anyway, when he wanted to.

And maybe the man had caught some hint of his struggle to keep himself under control, Maynard could somehow read him, HIM, like a book. He whined softly as Maynard leaned in to, a little awkwardly, speak into his ear.

“Cum for me, Kai.”

Hart tensed as he felt it happen, almost against his will, his body all too willing to comply with Maynard’s order. The surge of pleasure was enough to wipe everything else from his mind for the moment, and he cried out as he spent himself. But Maynard wasn’t done with him yet, and the pleasure turned into something that was almost pain as Maynard continued to thrust, just as hard as before.

He was almost sobbing with the intensity of the sensation when he felt Maynard’s grip tighten around his arms and hip, and he gave another soft cry as, for a few moments, Maynard’s thrusts got even faster. Then the man finally began to slow, and they were left with their mingled panting as they recovered from what had just happened.


End file.
